Tag Archives: teacher

We went last night for our parent-teacher conferences for our toddler. Yes, our toddler. We met with the teacher that we’ve been underwhelmed with and we were again, underwhelmed. (First of all, why can’t adults sit at big people tables, do we really need to sit where our kids do?)

We got a little report card-like sheet that had a million checkoff items and came in quadruplicate. (Triplicate wasn’t enough.) We talked about Logan’s strengths: he talks a lot, plays well with others, knows his colors and letters on sight and his daily journal is spectacular. (It amuses me a 2 year old has a daily journal.) The teacher said that like other kids his age he needs to work on writing his letters and numbers and how to measures items (Even I still struggle with the ruler.)

Now I know we chose this day care because of its fancy-pants curriculum and fork over several shiny pennies each Monday morning. But sometimes in talking with the teachers it amazes me all that they do and how daycare has evolved.

Not too long ago wasn’t daycare just filled with singing, dancing, play pens, coloring, snacks and naptime? Essentially organized play? The kids all seem to really enjoy their classes and activities, I’m just floored by the thought and rigidity behind everything. Each class is supposed to have a syllabus, we even got one in the infant class. There’s daily activity sheets and quarterly reports. Though we got our first quarterly report from this class just yesterday, which it turns out was the fourth quarter…

Obviously, our teacher seems less inclined to document and follow through on the administrative side of her job, but I honestly would rather have her really involved with our kids than the paperwork. Besides, he’s moving up to another class in August and that teacher is rock solid. (FYI, we talked to her about the stuttering and she’s noticed it a bit when he’s excited, but thinks it’s totally normal.)

I wonder what daycare will be like in coming years. Will each kid be required to bring an iTouch along with their extra change of clothes and naptime blanket? Will there be homework? And how much is too much? Again, we chose this place and despite my grumblings about his current teacher, we are happy with them. It all just makes me wonder, are we getting over the top?

Finding the right daycare reminded me of the research I did to find the right college. Student-to-teacher ratios, class curriculum, location, amenities. Cost. We finally found one that we have been generally happy with for the past two years, but the relationship is starting to sour as a couple teachers have left and my son’s current teacher keeps making missteps.

It’s not that we’re worried he’s being mistreated, it’s more about quality of care, such as the lack of follow through, forgetfulness and overall disorganization. I feel like he’s getting enough mental stimulation as their curriculum has their days filled with crafts, music, reading, etc. I just wonder if after all that the teacher is frazzled too. I find out more about Logan’s day from the teacher next door than my son’s teacher.

But I do have to say I feel like his teacher knows him and loves him. At his Christmas performance, when his confidence began to falter before the big smiling crowd, she nodded him over so he could finish the song nuzzled in her bosom. That meant a lot to me, but bosoms can only go so far.

My husband and I are going to talk with the daycare director to see if our expectations are unreasonable. (By daily report cards, do they really mean weekly?) We’ll see what can be done so that our expectations and what’s required of her are the same. We’re also going to talk with the teacher to find out if there’s more we can be doing on our end to help.

Then if she doesn’t shape up after some time, we can always leave. There’s a couple of other really good daycares on the list that we can attend. Although I don’t want to take him away from his friends, I know as a kid, he’s flexible and can always make new ones. That’s something he’ll be doing for the rest of his life.